tour of the world among the English-speaking race in both hemispheres.] Tune-"Failte na Miosg." JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. [A lovelier or purer lyric than this was never penned by song-writer. Yet the old ditty for [My heart's in the Highlands, my heart which it is the substitute, if it was flavoured with wit, was tainted also with licentiousness. In cases like this, the foul original, placed in the crucible and passed into the furnace, came out at last, under the hand of Burns, pure as thricerefined gold, and stamped authentically, as such, for ever in its new form with the hall-mark of his genius. The melody retained from the old song thus newly applied is stated to have been a piece of sacred music in the old Catholic times. John Anderson in the flesh was traditionally the Town Piper of Kelso.] Tune-"John Anderson, my jo." JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, When we were first acquent ; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; Farewell to the mountains high covered But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snow; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, We clamb the hills thegither; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go ; And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo. |